


Snowchild

by LivefromG25



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M, drugs and snow, this has both, tw? i guess?, two things in the life scare me a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivefromG25/pseuds/LivefromG25
Summary: Not quite the cosy night in Armie envisioned.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 47
Kudos: 48
Collections: CMBYN Drabble Challenge





	Snowchild

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fictionalsideblog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionalsideblog/gifts).



> Written for the CMBYN drabble challenge: **Snow.**  
>  Thank you to the wonderful onlyastoryteller for the beta review.

Kicking the door shut on a wintery outside, Armie made his way to the kitchen, unloading enough food to feed five thousand. The weatherchannel’s blizzard prediction hadn’t been wrong and it was already starting to drift outside. The idea of a weekend under blankets with takeout and Tim made him smile. 

“Hey. You’re back. That was quick.”

“Oh, there you are. Yeah, I brought food…-,” The space between Armie and the countertop was suddenly full of angles and limbs as Tim squeezed in between, arms snaking around Armie’s neck. 

Armie fingered Tim’s jacket collar. “Wait, you’re dressed-? Going someplace?”

Tim pulled him into a kiss. Refusing distraction, Armie pushed against Tim’s slim chest, eyeing him imploringly. Tim gently mirrored his movement, stroking gently down the front of his shirt.

“Ok. Yes. But listen!" Tim muttered through open-mouthed kisses at the base of Armie’s throat. "I won’t be gone long, only a few hours. All of this-” he gestured behind him - “It can wait, right? Until I’m home?”

Armie tried ignoring the creeping sense of deja vu. “I thought-, I mean-, we _said_ we were staying _in_ tonight, Tim. It’s snowing out.”

Tim brought his hands together in mock prayer and Armie knew argument was futile.

“Right. No, I know, but it’s just Abel, he texted and-”

“Forget it.” Armie shook his head. _Trust him._ “Doesn’t matter. Go. Have fun.”

Tim pulled on Armie’s t-shirt, ignoring his effort to put space between them, fingers both gentle and desperate in their grip. “It’s not like before, I swear.”

Not trusting himself to speak straight away, Armie eyed him a beat or two. _Looking for signs._ Kissing Tim's proffered lips, he moved around him, re-covering the food. “Just go, It’s fine”. 

A soft return kiss landed in his hairline and his chest ached with the familiarity of Tim’s weight against him. “Mm, love you! Back soon, promise.”

_Don’t make promises you can’t keep._

As he carried tubs to the fridge, Armie felt warmth depart with Tim’s retreating form. He pressed his forehead to the cool, metallic surface.

_Let it go._

He roamed the apartment, taking out the itch of anger on various items of Tim’s scattered clothing. Pulling trousers from the back of sofas, ripping t-shirts from their resting place on the floor, a ball of frustration in his hands that he dumped unceremoniously in the bathroom laundry hamper. He felt marginally better, like he’d cotton-bound all his negativity, ready to wash away in the next cycle. _I_ _ts not like before._

Since he was there, he quickly relieved himself. Flushing, a glint of low winter sun on something by the sink lured him like a magpie. 

A hand mirror. He picked it up. Anger returned tenfold as displaced chalky remnants fell like glitter.

 _He fucking_ **_promised_ ** _._

The glass shattered in his hand, a sob tearing from his chest as he watched a single teardrop mix with blood and soak into a snowdrift of powder.

_And you’re a fucking idiot._


End file.
